


Midnight Snacks

by rubyelf



Category: Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-24
Updated: 2012-02-24
Packaged: 2017-10-31 16:59:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,479
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/346387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rubyelf/pseuds/rubyelf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hobbits should not be allowed unattended in the kitchen at night. Especially with raspberry jelly. When Boromir finds them there and attempts to address the sticky situation, he discovers that Aragorn has been making some questionable bets and that certain hobbits have some questionable things in mind. No man/hobbit smut, although not for lack of trying on the hobbits' part.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story is part of Rubyelf's Ruby-Verse AU.

 TITLE: Midnight Snacks  
AUTHOR: RubyElf  
CHARACTERS: Boromir, Merry, Pippin  
RATING: PG-13  
WARNINGS: AU (ruby-verse)  
SUMMARY: Hobbits should not be allowed unattended in kitchens. Ever.  
DISCLAIMER: Characters do not belong to me. They are just here to play.

I asked for food for the plot bunnies. [ms_ivory](http://ms-ivory.livejournal.com/) assisted with a suggestion for something involving Boromir stumbling upon hungry hobbits in the kitchen. At least this kept me busy all evening while we are steadily buried in ice. Only problem is... now what am I going to do at work tomorrow? Help! Give me something to write!

 

Boromir muttered curses under his breath as Finn sniffed her way along the empty street, apparently oblivious to the cold and obviously not in any hurry. The fact that her master, rudely awakened from slumber by a whining, anxious puppy, had pulled on a coat and boots over his winter night clothes and stumbled out into the chilly night with her did not seem to give her any cause for hurry.

“Just pick a spot,” he grumbled.

Finn looked up at him, wagged her tail happily, and continued to lead him along the street. Boromir glared at her when he realized they had arrived outside the door of the kitchen.

“You didn’t even have to go, did you?” he said accusingly. “You just wanted something to eat.”

Finn nudged him with her nose and looked at the door hopefully.

“At least it’s always warm in there,” he muttered, pushing the door open.

The kitchen was deserted, but never entirely still; live coals from the hearths still cast a red glow over the stone walls, and over the stoves, racks of dried herbs shuddered slightly in the drafts from the chimneys. Boromir kept Finn close at his side to prevent her from getting her nose into anything as he walked toward the bucket by the fire where the kitchen girls begun tossing an assortment of especially tasty scraps for their favorite puppy; they had also gotten into the habit of baking special pastries or other treats for the handsome and unmarried Steward who always arrived for his puppy’s dinner.

Boromir jumped at the sound of a sharp, alarmed squeak from somewhere in the darkness among the broad work tables and pantries. Finn cocked her head curiously.

“Shh, lass,” he hissed.

A moment later, his alarm dissolved into annoyance when the next squeak was followed by an outburst of breathless laughter. Bloody teenagers sneaking into the kitchen for a nice, warm place for a quick grope, he expected.

“Who’s there?” he demanded.

Silence.

“This is the Steward of Gondor! Show yourselves immedi… Finn!”

His attempt at a threatening tone was entirely ruined by Finn bolting off in the direction of the hidden intruders, jerking the lead out of his hand. He grabbed a lantern off the wall and lit it quickly at the fireplace before going in search of his wayward puppy and the hidden gigglers.

“There you are,” he said, finding Finn sitting happily under one of the large tables, licking her paws. “What’s on your feet?”

He knelt and lifted one of her paws; it was covered with something deep red and sticky. Boromir frowned and straightened up, wondering if perhaps there was something sinister going on here after all.

“Who’s there?” he shouted.

“Oof! Get off, idiot! That’s Boromir!”

“No, it isn’t.”

“It is so! I hope he beats you with a stick…”

“Ow! Let go!”

Boromir sighed and held up the lantern. In its glow, two pairs of bright eyes stared up at him from the floor, shadowed by mops of untidy hair.

“Bloody hobbits.”

“Hello, Boromir!” Merry said happily.

“Get him off!” Pippin protested, slightly muffled by Merry sitting on his chest.

“What are you two doing?” Boromir demanded.

“We came to visit you,” Merry said. “And Aragorn and the others, of course. But mostly you.”

“I meant,” Boromir said, trying to maintain some patience, “What are you doing on the kitchen floor in the middle of the night?”

Merry smiled and held up a large jar, which was now almost empty. “Putting jelly on Pip.”

“Putting…”

“It’s raspberry,” Pippin added.

“I don’t give a damn what bloody flavor it is! Why the hell are you in here in the middle of the night playing with jelly?”

Merry shrugged. “We were looking for something to eat. But Pip was fussing about wanting jelly and I told him I’d stick his head in a jar of jelly, and he said I wouldn’t, so naturally I had to…”

“I told you my head wouldn’t fit in the jar,” Pippin said triumphantly.

Finn lunged at the two hobbits and began licking them enthusiastically. Merry toppled over sideways, and Pippin popped up, clumps of jelly streaking his hair and smeared over his clothes. Both of them exclaimed delightedly and threw themselves on Finn, petting and admiring her.

“When did you get a dog, Boromir! She’s lovely!”

“And she likes jelly,” Pippin observed.

“Good girl! Nice doggie! As long as you’re after that jelly, I stuffed some in his pockets…”

“Finn!” Boromir roared, and the puppy scurried to his side, looking up at him anxiously as she licked jelly off her nose.

“So you two creatures came to Minas Tirith to visit me.”

“That’s right.”

“And you thought the best way to keep yourselves occupied till morning was to put jelly all over each other.”

“Well, no,” Merry said, grinning. “I figured it would take me a good part of the night to lick it all off him, but your dog seems to have done most of that.”

“Not fair!” Pippin protested. “You didn’t tell me about that part! Is there any more jelly?”

“I’m not getting near you till you’ve had a bath, Mister Covered-With-Dog-Slobber.”

Pippin crossed his arms. “Then I’m not doing what I told you I’d do when we…”

Both of them squeaked in protest when Boromir lifted up a sticky hobbit in each hand, holding them by the backs of their shirts as he walked toward the kitchen door, Finn following along behind and licking up stray blobs of jelly.

“Oy! Where are you taking us?”

“I’m going to drop you both in the baths with these disgusting clothes.”

Merry glanced at Pippin. “This is your fault.”

“You got the jelly out!”

“You dared me!”

“Be quiet,” Boromir growled.

“Aren’t you glad to see us?” Pippin asked mournfully.

Boromir managed to maintain his stern façade for a moment, but then he laughed and swung them both into his arms, squeezing them warmly.

“I must admit, I am.”

Pippin glanced slyly at Merry. “But Boromir, you’re all sticky now. You’ll have to take a bath with us.”

“Oh, no, lads. I’m not interested in being molested by the two of you.”

“We’ll behave,” Merry said solemnly.

“No we won’t!” Pippin blurted out, giggling.

“Filthy little creatures,” Boromir muttered.

They both wrapped their arms around his neck and kissed his cheeks fondly.

“Oh, Boromir,” Pippin said happily. “No one insults us quite like you do.”

“Be quiet, both of you. I’ll never hear the end of it if anyone sees me with the likes of you.”

“We’re heroes!” Merry protested.

“Heroes covered with jelly,” Pippin added.

“You’re not helping, Pip,” Merry said.

“If you two don’t stop, I’ll gag you both,” Boromir warned.

The two hobbits glanced at each other, interested.

“Promise?” Pippin asked hopefully.

“Impossible. Both of you. Absolutely impossible.”

“So,” Merry asked with feigned casualness as he looked up at Boromir. “Is that what you and Ara… oof!”

If anyone in Minas Tirith noted the Steward walking through the city streets in the middle of the night with a puppy tagging behind him and a squirming, sticky hobbit with a bag over his head under each arm, they knew better than to say anything about it.

 

 


	2. Washing Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hobbits are persistent. And really not very modest. 

 TITLE: Washing Up  
AUTHOR: RubyElf  
CHARACTERS: Boromir, Merry, Pippin  
RATING: R  
WARNINGS: AU (ruby-verse)  
SUMMARY: Hobbits are persistent. And really not very modest.   
DISCLAIMER: Characters do not belong to me. They are just here to play.

Follows [Midnight Snacks](http://rubyelf.livejournal.com/11161.html#cutid1), which was intended to be a one-shot, but I get bored easily, sooooo.... thanks to [ms_ivory ](http://ms-ivory.livejournal.com/)for the original idea and to [peersrogue](http://peersrogue.livejournal.com/), [offski](http://offski.livejournal.com/), and [glovergerl](http://glovergerl.livejournal.com/) for the requests and / or suggestions for a follow-up. 

Haven't decided whether there ought to be any more to this... suppose it depends on exactly how much molesting of Boromir my dearest and most awesome readers would like to see. There could possibly be _a lot_ of molesting, if I put my mind to it...  
.....................................................................

Boromir kicked open the door to the private bath across the hall from his rooms and strode in, depositing two squirming, protesting hobbits on a bench against the wall before pulling the flour sacks off their heads.

“You didn’t have to put bags over our heads,” Pippin complained.

“Of course I did” Boromir said, tossing a log into the small woodstove that heated the room and checking to see if there was hot water in the large kettle on top. Dipping his finger in and drawing it back quickly, he nodded his approval and poured the kettle into the bath. Square and set into the floor, it had a stone ledge just high enough to keep the majority of the water in the bath and was just deep enough for a grown man to sit comfortably in it with water up to his shoulders.

“At least he’s warming it up for us,” Merry muttered to Pippin.

“Clothes off,” Boromir said.

The hobbits looked up at him, surprised. Finn, sitting near the door, was keeping a close eye on these strange creatures that her master had captured. At the moment she had determined only two things about them: they were noisy, and they were delicious. These two traits alone made them worthy of her interest, not to mention that they were making her master behave rather oddly.

“Don’t look at me like that, you two. Your clothes are covered with jelly and they need to be washed.”

“But Boromir,” Merry observed hopefully, “so are yours.”

“I’ll take my bath. After you two.”

The two hobbits stripped quickly, making Boromir’s face redden with their ongoing commentary on each other’s various parts.

“You must be cold, Merry! You're looking rather... small today.”

“Psh. I don’t remember having my hands in your pants, which means you must have put that jelly in your own underwear.”

“At least I’m wearing underwear.”

“That’s entirely enough,” Boromir muttered, as two now-naked hobbits beamed up at him. “Into the bath. Now.”

“In a moment,” Merry said, and Boromir noticed both of them sidling toward him.

“It’s not fair for us to be naked and you to have all these clothes on,” Pippin said.

“You two like being naked,” Boromir protested.

“There’s nothing wrong with being naked,” Merry said, tugging at the buttons on Boromir’s coat. “At least take this off. It’s covered with jelly and things are starting to stick to it.”

Boromir sighed and laid his coat across the bench, only then remembering that he’d taken Finn out wearing not much more than his sleeping pants and an undershirt. Merry nodded approvingly, and Pippin’s eyes widened.

“Ooo,” he murmured.

“Stop gawking and get in the bath,” Boromir ordered.

“Yes, Pip, get in the bath,” Merry said, and he turned and tackled Pippin backwards into the water. The two of them popped up a moment later, soaked and laughing and trying to dunk each other back under. Boromir chuckled, watching them play like children, until he realized exactly what the reward was for the one who managed to force the other one’s head underwater, and then he turned away in a hurry and looked at Finn.

“Come on, lass. We’re leaving… hey, now!”

Hobbits were stronger than they looked, and Boromir hadn’t been expecting it, and before he knew it the two of them were yanking him over backwards, sending him sprawling into the bath with a great splash and an alarmed bark from Finn.

He sat up, unleashing a stream of anatomically impossible curses and threats, and grasped one hobbit neck in each hand, growling. The two small faces looked back at him with nothing but bright-eyed amusement, unshakeable in their certainty that Boromir wouldn’t hurt them. He shook his head and released them; occasionally when he feared he’d been too rough with Aragorn the other man would give him almost the same look of good humor and trust. Unfortunately, his mind immediately flashed to some of the situations in which Aragorn had given him that look, and this had an immediate effect on his body that the hobbits were guaranteed to take note of.

“See? He _is_ interested,” Pippin exclaimed.

“I am _NOT_ ,” Boromir said sharply, turning very red. “I wasn’t thinking about you two creatures.”

“No, you were thinking about Aragorn, weren’t you,” Merry said.

“That’s none of your business,” Boromir muttered, moving to stand up and realizing he would only be in for more teasing if he didn’t give his inconvenient arousal a moment to take the hint that it wasn’t welcome.

“You didn’t even bother to show him the note yet, did you,” Merry said, scowling at Pippin.

“Oh! I forgot!” he squeaked, scrambling out of the bath and rummaging through his clothes. He drew out a folded piece of paper and handed it to Merry, who un-crumpled it and raised his eyebrows.

“Pip, this is the dirty picture you drew at the inn on the way here.”

“Ooo,” Pippin said, leaning over to look. “It is a nice picture, that is.”

“The _note_ , Pip.”

“Oh! Right!”

Pippin proudly produced another folded paper. Merry took it and looked at it, smiling with satisfaction.

“Very good. Here, take a look at this, Boromir.”

Boromir rolled his eyes. “If this is another dirty picture…”

It was not a dirty picture.

It was written on the stationery that Aragorn and Arwen kept in their study for their personal use.

_To the Most Excellent and Heroic Hobbits, Masters Meriadoc Brandybuck and Peregrine Took:_

Lord Elessar Telcontar, High King of Gondor and Arnor, hereby grants the request which you made of him: you have the full permission of the King to engage in the tormenting, harassing, molesting, and general handling of the Lord Steward Boromir of Gondor during your current visit to our fair city. It should be duly noted that the Lord Steward will reserve the right to avoid or refuse the aforementioned treatment; however, the King expresses the hope that the Lord Steward will be a good sport about it and permit said molestation in the name of goodwill and in order to demonstrate the hospitality with which our people treat guests of all races, sizes, and habits.

Boromir studied the letter for a long moment, but the signature at the bottom was unmistakably Aragorn’s, and the letter bore yesterday’s date.

“That rotten, evil, sneaky bastard,” he muttered, not sure whether to laugh or throw the letter in the fire and go drag Aragorn out of bed and strangle him. “You two actually went to him and requested his permission to…”

“Well, he gave it, didn’t he?” Merry pointed out.

“And he did tell you to be a good sport,” Pippin added.

“In the name of hospitality and goodwill,” Merry said.

Boromir looked over his shoulder at Finn, his expression bordering on alarm; Finn cocked her head and studied him for a moment, then yawned and laid her head down on her paws.

“Arwen won’t approve of this…” he attempted desperately.

Merry grinned. “She was going to sign her name under Aragorn’s, but she was laughing too hard to hold the pen.”

“You wouldn’t want to disappoint your king, would you, Boromir?” Pippin asked.

“No,” Boromir said, “but at the moment I would like to kill him.”

The hobbits glanced at each other, exchanging a knowing look.

“He’s still wearing too many clothes, don’t you think, Pip?”

“I do agree.”

“Well, then, shall we get to work?”


	3. Don't Drop The Soap

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The hobbits have Aragorn's permission to do what they wish with Boromir. They do not, however, have Boromir's permission.

 TITLE: Don't Drop The Soap  
AUTHOR: RubyElf  
CHARACTERS: Boromir, Merry, Pippin  
RATING: R  
WARNINGS: AU (ruby-verse)  
SUMMARY: The hobbits have Aragorn's permission to do what they wish with Boromir. They do not, however, have Boromir's permission.  
DISCLAIMER: Characters do not belong to me. They are just here to play.

(follows [Midnight Snacks](http://rubyelf.livejournal.com/11161.html?#cutid1) and [Washing Up](http://rubyelf.livejournal.com/11664.html#cutid1))

Argh! I couldn't do it. I _tried_. I couldn't write hobbit smut. Not happening. I don't mind reading it, but apparently my brain absolutely flat-out _refuses_ to write it. We had an argument, my brain and I, since I had to come up with _something_ , and so this is where we ended up. Of course, there's still the matter of getting back at Aragorn to deal with...  


..............................................................................................................................

Boromir scowled at the two hobbits who sat perched on the ledge at the other end of the bath, watching him with broad grins.

“I can’t believe you went and asked that of Aragorn,” he muttered.

“Well, if we hadn’t, you’d never have agreed to anything,” Merry said.

“I still haven’t agreed to anything!” the man protested.

“True,” Pippin agreed. “But you’re already in the bathtub, so that’s a start, isn’t it?”

“It is not,” Boromir said sharply. “I don’t care what Aragorn gave you permission to do. It’s not his permission to give, you know.”

Merry raised his eyebrows. “You’re taking this awfully seriously, Boromir. We just wanted...”

“I know exactly what you want to do. You’ve both suggested it often enough. And in considerable detail. Pippin even drew me pictures to help explain what you meant, remember?”

Pippin smiled. “They were very good pictures. I’d never seen you turn that shade of red before.”

“He’s just about that red now,” Merry noted.

“Why shouldn’t I be? I’ve got two naked hobbits sitting there staring at me.”

“We like staring at you,” Pippin said. “You’re very nice to stare at.”

“He’d be nicer to do other things to,” Merry suggested.

“I agree,” Pippin said cheerfully.

Boromir rolled his eyes. “Don’t you two have any modesty? Some things aren’t meant to be made into ridiculous games.”

“What’s wrong with games?” Merry said. “Games are fun to play.”

Boromir shook his head. “It might be play for you two… everything is play for you two. But things like that aren’t play for me, lads.”

Pippin cocked his head. “Well, if you’re not having fun, I can guarantee you’re _not_ doing it right.”

“I must agree with Pippin, much as I hate to,” Merry said. “If it isn’t fun, you’re _definitely_ doing it wrong.”

Boromir rolled his eyes. “I didn’t say it wasn’t fun. I said it isn’t play.”

“Well, it’s certainly not business,” Pippin said. “After all, you and Aragorn aren’t really accomplishing much in the way of…”

“Pip,” Merry warned.

Pippin stopped talking. Boromir shot him a sharp glance.

“I am not discussing my private life with you two.”

“Why not?”

“Well, for one thing, then it wouldn’t be private anymore, would it?”

The hobbits glanced at each other, exchanging a silent discussion, and then scooted over to sit on either side of the much larger man.

“We’re your friends, Boromir. You can tell us anything.”

“I’m not telling you anything.”

Pippin pouted. “I don’t think you’re taking us seriously.”

Boromir laughed. “Taking you seriously? I found you in the kitchen in the middle of the night playing in jelly, and then you pushed me into the bathtub, and now you’re bouncing around naked and making vulgar suggestions. Which part of that would you suggest I take seriously?”

“We haven’t suggested anything vulgar yet,” Merry protested. “At least not in the past five minutes or so.”

“I could suggest a few things, though,” Pippin suggested, sliding closer.

“I’ve got a few ideas myself,” Merry agreed, doing the same.

Small hands tugged at his undershirt and experimentally squeezed the muscles of his bare arms, ran like spiders down the sides of his ribs. Before they could take any further liberties, though, their target was at the other end of the bath, giving them an outraged glare.

“That is _more_ than enough of that!” he growled.

The hobbits exchanged another glance.

“We should have listened to Arwen,” Merry said, shaking his head. “Now we’ve gone and lost.”

“Lost what?” Boromir asked, frowning.

“The bet,” Pippin said.

“Pip!” Merry gasped, glancing at Boromir with wide eyes.

“What bet?” Boromir demanded.

“Don’t get all red in the face,” Pippin said defensively.

“If you don’t tell me what bet you’re talking about, your faces will be red and it’ll be because I’m strangling both of you.”

“No need for that,” Merry said hastily. “Just a little bet we made with Aragorn…”

“ _WHAT BET_?”

Finn looked up, alarmed, as the roar echoed through the small room. Both hobbits sat up quickly and started talking.

“We were going to try to convince you to play with us…”

“But Merry said you wouldn’t on account of you and Aragorn…”

“It was Pip’s idea to ask him about it…”

“No it wasn’t! It was your idea!”

“Well, asking him to write an official letter was your idea!”

“It wasn’t! All I said was…”

Boromir cleared his throat sharply, and both hobbits paused for a moment.

“The bet,” he reminded them, in a low, even voice that made both of them shiver slightly.

“Aragorn said you wouldn’t play with us no matter what anyone said,” Merry explained. “So Pippin said you would if we had his permission…”

“You said that!” Pippin protested, then fell silent when Merry gave him another warning look.

“And Aragorn said he was quite certain you wouldn’t, even with his permission,” Merry went on. “So we made a bet with him that if he wrote that note, we’d be able to convince you, and he bet we wouldn’t.”

“Arwen warned us we were going to lose,” Pippin said. “Merry didn’t listen, though.”

“I didn’t listen? You’re the one who…”

“The bet,” Boromir reminded again, his voice still low and disturbingly patient.

“So Aragorn made us a bet,” Merry said.

“He bet us that even if he wrote that letter himself, you still wouldn’t let us do any of those things, and we bet him that if we had that letter from him, we’d be able to convince you.”

“It appears we lost,” Merry concluded.

“What exactly was the bet for?” Boromir asked.

Pippin bit his lip. “If Aragorn wins, we have to be his personal servants for a week.”

“And if we win, we get royal permission to have the cooks make us anything we want to eat for the entire time we’re here,” Merry said.

“And,” Pip added, “he has to write us each an official letter for us to keep forever that says the High King of Gondor and Arnor lost a bet to us.”

Boromir raised his eyebrows thoughtfully. “Hmm. He must be quite certain you’re going to lose, if he was willing to make a bet like that.”

“He was right, apparently,” Pippin said, looking sorry for himself. “He’s going to make us do all kinds of terrible chores…”

“That’s only if you lose,” Boromir observed.

Pippin glanced at him hopefully. “And we’re not going to lose?”

The familiar deep chuckle rumbled through Boromir’s chest. “You’re not going to get what you’re after, lad… but Aragorn doesn’t need to know that, now does he?”

The hobbits looked puzzled for a moment, then brightened and beamed at each other.

“I don’t see why he has to know,” Merry said.

“Not like he can prove we didn’t win, right?” Pippin suggested.

Merry frowned. “He won’t believe it. He won’t believe you actually gave in.”

Boromir smiled to himself. “Oh, he will. With a bit of acting on our part, he will.”

Pippin grinned and threw his arms around Boromir’s neck, and Merry planted a kiss on his cheek.

“Now, there,” Boromir chuckled, prying them away. “No more of that until you put some clothes on. And you both need a good scrubbing first… you’ve still got jelly in your hair, both of you.”

He reached over and retrieved a bar of soap from the ledge of the bath. Pippin grabbed it, but Merry snatched it from him, and they wrestled for it with much splashing and shouting and accusations of foul play while Boromir dried himself and his wet clothes as best he could with a towel and watched them fight.

“Boromir!” Pippin whined. “Merry’s gone and lost the soap!”

“I lost it? You’re the one who…”

Boromir shook his head, laughing. “You two will argue about anything.”

“Look who’s talking,” Merry shot back. “You and Aragorn fight about not having anything to fight about, if you can’t think of anything else.”

“Out of the bath,” the man said, ignoring Merry’s remark. “You’ve splashed off most of the jelly by now anyway.”

The two hobbits climbed out of the bath and stood before him, dripping wet and grinning.

“What would you like us to wear?” Pippin asked. “No sense in putting those clothes back on. They’re a mess.”

“Where are the rest of your things? Where are you staying?”

“Aragorn and Arwen gave us a room with them, but they’ll have locked everything up and gone to bed hours ago,” Merry said. “Arwen told us when we went to the kitchen for a snack that if we didn’t hurry back we’d be stuck finding somewhere else to sleep.”

“We didn’t hurry back,” Pippin added.

Boromir sighed and handed each of them a towel. Intended for use by grown men, the towels enveloped the two little figures like white, fluffy blankets.

“Wrap up tightly,” he said.

“Why?” Pippin asked.

“If you have any intention of getting out of here before morning, I suggest you just do what I told you.”

“Sounds like an excellent plan to me,” Merry said.

Ducking out into the frigid night air with his wet clothes chilling him to the bone and Finn trotting along behind him, wondering why her master had chosen to take a bath in the middle of the night with his clothes on, Boromir hurried to his rooms and set down the two securely towel-wrapped bundles he’d been carrying tucked into each arm. The cocoons unwound themselves somewhat as a disheveled hobbit head emerged from each of them.

Boromir rummaged in his dresser and tossed two of his shorter undershirts in their direction. Merry and Pippin pulled them on, laughing delightedly at themselves with the collars hanging off their shoulders and the hems dragging on the ground like a lady’s gown.

“Well, at least you’re not naked anymore,” Boromir said, hurrying to collect some warm, dry sleeping clothes for himself. “We’ll deal with Aragorn in the morning, the three of us, and he’ll learn better than to make bets like that. Time to get some sleep now, though. There’s a nice sofa there you two can sleep on.”

“Can’t we sleep with you?” Pippin asked hopefully.

Boromir scowled, frustration sparking. “Don’t you ever give up? You’re both impossible! Good night!”

He was about to slam the door to his bedroom behind him, but he heard Pippin speaking to Merry in the small, uncertain voice that he only used when he had run out of jokes and feared Merry or someone else was genuinely angry with him.

“I didn’t mean it like that, Merry… honest I didn’t. I meant like we used to, when we were all travelling together and we were frightened…”

“I was never frightened,” Merry said, but his tone was gentle. “He didn’t know what you meant, love. Let’s go to sleep.”

Boromir was behind them in three large strides, swinging one of them up into each of his strong arms and squeezing them close enough to feel the chuckle rumbling through him. Pippin’s miserable expression transformed into a beaming smile.

“Come on, then, lads. If you promise to be good, that is.”

“Promise,” Merry said.

“Double promise,” Pippin agreed.

Finn wandered around the room for a few minutes, sniffing at everything just to make sure nothing in the room had changed in their absence. When she got around to following her master into the bedroom and hopping up onto the foot of the bed (Boromir had forbidden this, but after one night of listening to her cry he couldn’t stand it and let her up, just for one night, and she’d slept there ever since), he already had company. The two strange little creatures he’d captured in the kitchen were tucked up close against either side of his broad chest, still-damp heads pillowed on each sturdy shoulder, each wrapped securely in one of his arms. Finn sniffed all three of them for a moment and then, taking the soft smile on her master’s sleeping face as a sign that all was well, curled up and lay down between his feet and dozed off.

  


 


	4. You Can Bet On It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Boromir didn't appreciate Aragorn's little joke. Now he's got one of his own. 

TITLE: You Can Bet On It  
AUTHOR: RubyElf  
CHARACTERS: Aragorn / Boromir, Merry, Pippin, Arwen  
RATING: R  
WARNINGS: AU (ruby-verse)  
SUMMARY: Boromir didn't appreciate Aragorn's little joke. Now he's got one of his own.   
DISCLAIMER: Characters do not belong to me. They are just here to play.

(follows [Midnight Snacks](http://rubyelf.livejournal.com/11161.html#cutid1), [Washing Up](http://rubyelf.livejournal.com/11664.html#cutid1), and [Don't Drop The Soap](http://rubyelf.livejournal.com/11983.html#cutid1))

Thanks to all who encouraged this entirely random little series, and especially [ms_ivory](http://ms-ivory.livejournal.com/) for sending the plot bunny my way. It has been a very friendly bunny even if it does have an unusual fondness for raspberry jelly. This little set of stories has been probably the most pointless thing I've written in quite some time... perhaps I need MORE RANDOM PLOT BUNNIES (hint hint).   
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Boromir woke to a hobbit poking his shoulder.

“Mmmph. What, Pippin?”

“We’re hungry.”

“Well, go get something to eat, then.”

Merry began prodding him in the ribs. “Get up! If we go back to the kitchen wearing nothing but your underclothes, I’m not sure what they’ll do, but they probably won’t feed us.”

Boromir rubbed his eyes. “Well, go get your clothes from your room.”

“Boromir…” Pippin reminded him. “The act isn’t going to be very convincing if you don’t make an appearance, you know.”

“Oh, that…” Boromir muttered, sitting up and toppling both hobbits sideways. “Right, then. Go out and play with Finn for a moment… there’s some food for her in the cabinet where she can’t get at it… and I’ll get dressed.”

“We could help…”

“Pip,” Merry warned, noticing the trace of a scowl beginning to cross the man’s face.

“We’ll just go see to Finn,” Pippin said briskly, taking the hint, and hurried away.

The man, two hobbits, and one puppy arrived at the royal residence together, and the hobbits bolted past the guards and swung the door open. Boromir motioned to the men to let them go, then followed them.

Aragorn and Arwen, interrupted in the midst of breakfast, found that suddenly each of them had a hobbit on their lap, wearing shirts that came down to their ankles, both chatting excitedly at the same time as they were busily selecting various items of food from the plates in front of their host and hostess.

“Mmm… where do you get such fine apples this time of year?”

“They are nice, aren’t they, Merry?”

“You’re eating all of Arwen’s toast, Pip.”

“You already ate all of Aragorn’s.”

“Well, I’m hungry! We never did get to finish our snack last night.”

“No, we didn’t,” Pippin agreed, as Merry glanced slyly at Boromir. “It’s a shame we were so rudely interrupted.”

“Oh, I’d say the interruption was worth it, wouldn’t you, Pip?”

“I don’t… what? Oh, yes! Certainly. Very worth it. A very fine interruption it was, as a matter of fact.”

Merry shoved a muffin at him to make him stop talking before beaming at Boromir, who stood by the doorway, leaning against the wall with a satisfied grin.

“What are you going on about?” Aragorn asked, frowning at the hobbit eating off his plate, which happened to be Merry.

“Oh, well, we went to the kitchen for a snack, but we somehow accidentally got into a jar of jelly…”

Boromir snorted.

“Raspberry,” Pippin added, through a mouthful of muffin.

“What?” Aragorn asked.

“Raspberry. The jelly.”

Arwen raised her eyebrows. “Pippin… are you wearing Boromir’s underclothes?”

Pippin glanced down innocently, as if just noticing this fact. “Why, yes, I am!”

“Why, Pippin, are you wearing Boromir’s underclothes?”

“Couldn’t be running about naked,” Merry said sensibly.

“And where exactly have your clothes gone?”

Pippin glanced at Merry. “Where did they go, anyway? Are they in Boromir’s room?”

“No, I believe they’re still in his bath where we left them.”

“Oh, of course! There’d have been no sense in putting them back on, after all.”

There was a moment of complete silence in the room, broken only by the jingle of Finn’s lead against her collar as she sniffed around Boromir’s feet. Aragorn looked from the hobbits to Arwen, then to Boromir, and then back to the hobbits again, obviously trying to think of something to say. 

Pippin yawned and stretched before reaching for a piece of smoked bacon. “Mmm. I didn’t get nearly enough sleep. Did you, Merry?”

“Not at all,” Merry agreed. “Boromir’s either going to have to get a larger bed or put Finn out in the living room when we’re visiting.”

“She snores,” Pippin said, leaning over to address Arwen in a conspiratorial tone.

Aragorn looked over at Boromir again. The man cocked his head and returned the King’s puzzled gaze with a smug grin.

“Boromir?”

“Yes?”

“What exactly are these two talking about?”

Boromir shrugged. “Ran into them in the kitchen… seems they’d run into some mischief with some jelly…”

“Yes, Pippin, they know it was raspberry,” Merry added, before Pippin could comment.

“So I took them to get washed up, and then they handed over that note of yours.”

“Oh…that.”

“Yes, that,” Boromir said evenly, meeting Aragorn’s eyes without flinching. “I must admit I was a bit surprised. I didn’t think you’d be that willing to share.”

Aragorn blinked. “Share? I don’t …”

“We appreciated the sharing,” Merry noted.

Pippin nodded. “It would hardly be fair to keep him to yourself, after all. Just look at him!”

“And if you hadn’t been so kind as to share him, I’d have been stuck with no one but Pippin to play with.”

Pippin looked indignant, but had too much food in his mouth to protest.

“They do talk quite a bit,” Boromir said casually, observing the scene at the table with mild amusement. “But once you put them properly to work, they settle right down. Don’t you, lads?”

Pippin beamed proudly. Merry waved a piece of muffin in agreement. Aragorn’s jaw dropped, his eyes still fixed on Boromir.

Boromir could feel Arwen’s eyes on him, but refused to look away from Aragorn. He doubted Arwen was fooled, but she remained silent.

“The note was most helpful,” Pippin observed cheerfully. “He’d never have believed us if he hadn’t seen it in your own handwriting.”

Aragorn swallowed hard, and Boromir could feel him scanning his face for some sign that this was all a joke.

“So,” Merry asked curiously, glancing at Aragorn, “Do we have to get a note from you to play with Boromir next time we come to visit, or shall we just hold onto the current one?”

Arwen’s eyes flickered with something that might have been alarm. “You two come along with me, right this minute. You can’t be sitting at my breakfast table in underwear, no matter who it belongs to.”

The hobbits flashed a pleased glance at Boromir and allowed Arwen to lead them out of the room, leaving Aragorn still sitting at the table, staring blankly at the man leaning with arms crossed against the wall and grinning at him.

“You’d best send warning to the kitchen,” Boromir said. “The two creatures are hungry, and you did promise them that if they won the kitchen would make them anything they wanted to eat.”

“If they won…” Aragorn repeated, dazed.

“That is what you told them, right?”

“I… yes, I suppose I… Boromir?”

“Yes?”

For a moment he fought to resist, but as he watched the expression of bewilderment in Aragorn’s eyes slide into one of genuine hurt, he couldn’t contain himself.

“You had no right to give them permission to do such a thing,” he said sharply.

“I didn’t think you’d…”

“I didn’t appreciate it, Aragorn.”

“I know. I shouldn’t have… I suppose I thought it’d be rather funny… and prove to them once and for all… I didn’t think you’d…”

Boromir resisted for another long moment, but when Aragorn couldn’t even finish speaking and lapsed into staring at him with bare anguish written across his face, his determination crumbled. In a few brisk steps he reached Aragorn and pulled him to his feet by the shoulders and embraced him.

“Of course I wouldn’t, you daft man,” he said, laughing into Aragorn’s ear.

Aragorn pushed him back to look him in the face. “Wait… what?”

“I’d kiss a black bear before I’d kiss one of those little creatures,” Boromir said, grinning broadly.

Aragorn gaped at him. “You… that was a trick?”

“What, all that with those two? Of course it was. I found them in the kitchen and you two had gone to bed, so I made them wash up so they didn’t stick to anything, and then we all went to sleep.”

“They told you about… the bet?”

“Yes. You ought to be ashamed of yourself, Aragorn.”

“In retrospect, I rather am,” he admitted ruefully. “I apologize, Boromir… but I knew …”

“Knew you could trust me?” he asked, raising his eyebrows.

“Yes.”

Boromir pulled him closer, possessive and unyielding. “I’m not yours to share, you know.”

“I know.”

“But I am still yours,” he said, and kissed him.

“Boromir!” a hobbit voice exclaimed. “Now you’ve gone and ruined our trick!”

“Does that mean we lost the bet?” Pippin asked anxiously.

Boromir released Aragorn’s mouth long enough to look over his shoulder. “It means you half-won. Go down to the kitchen and tell them the Steward’s orders are to make you whatever you’d like for breakfast.”

“Very good!” Merry said happily.

“That’s the part of the bet I was worried about anyway,” Pippin admitted, as they hurried out the door.

“Well, thanks to you, we know there won’t be any raspberry jelly.”

“Thanks to me? You’re the one who…”

Their voices faded down the hall.

“Bloody hobbits,” Aragorn muttered, still slightly shaken.

“I can’t believe you thought I’d actually let myself be talked into such a thing.”

“I talked you into this,” Aragorn said, kissing him.

Boromir smirked. “It wasn’t your talking.”

“Perhaps we should stop talking, then.”

“You’re the one still talking,” Boromir pointed out, leading a still-dazed Aragorn toward the door with Finn trailing along behind.

“You almost gave me a heart attack, you know.”

“Would have served you right.”

**THE END**


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